container.” I turn to get a cup from the cupboard. “How was your day? Besides work, I mean.”
“I need to—good. It was good,” he replies, cutting off what he’d started to say in order to be polite and answer my question.
“What do you need to do?” I ask, glancing over my shoulder at him and capping the cranberry. I move to return it to the fridge. Before I set it on the shelf, I look to him, watching his eyes drop from where they’d been on my face. “Want some?”
“No. But thanks.”
“Okay.” I shut the fridge and grab my glass of juice, sipping it.
“I don’t want to leave in December,” Deek says suddenly.
Startled, I blink at him.
He’s not looking at me. He’s making fists, stacking them on each other, and holding them tightly over his chest like he’s preparing to protect his heart. “I want to have Christmas with you—”
“Well, you can—”
“And I want to have New Years.”
“Wow. Well, Deek—”
“Lucan,” he corrects. His eyes flicker up to mine. “Call me Lucan.”
“Oh.” My heart is beating strangely. And sort of fast. “Lucan.”
His eyes fall shut. “Thank you.”
“Why does everyone call you Deek?” I ask.
He snorts softly, his eyes opening again, gaze hitting my chin or maybe even my lips. “I was elected to be a deacon at the church when I was nineteen.”
“Young,” I murmur.
He nods. “I want to help people. I help a lot of people through the church.” He shrugs. “Anyway, our pastor at the time ordained me, and because I was one of three deacons, I became Deacon Lucan—which was ridiculous to say and even more to hear. Especially as a scrawny teen. It got shortened to Deek, and it stuck. I’ve been Deek ever since.”
I smile. I don’t know what about this strikes me as cute, but it does. I shake myself though and get to the point. “You know, I think we made it pretty clear today that none of us want to see you go. We’ll be thrilled if you want to stay til New Years. I’ll call Carly and schedule—”
“Then I want Valentine’s Day,” Deek—Lucan—says suddenly.
I set down my juice.
A muscle is ticcing in Lucan’s jaw, but it’s not from anger. He’s beginning to bristle with fur—a dead giveaway that he’s nervous. “And then I want St. Paddy’s Day—”
“You werewolves are really into St. Paddy’s Day,” I share unthinkingly.
“You have that impression because you know a lot of Irish wolves,” he says simply.
I nod, thinking of the pub. “You should have been there when I wrote the daily special as ‘Saint Patty’s.” All those Irishmen and women squawking at me in their pretty accents. ‘Patty is a woman! It’s Saint Patrick—Paddy!’
“Susan?”
“Hmm?” My eyes focus to find Lucan’s gaze locked to mine.
He swallows. “I don’t want to leave you.”
“Maggie doesn’t want you to go either—” I start.
Lucan’s head drops, and so does the hand that was combing up the back of his neck, which is now a mane of fur.
“—so you’ve got to know we’d love to have you stay. But… how long are you thinking? Carly won’t be able to wait forever. She’s great—she’ll get snapped up and then we’ll be back to where we started. So… how long do you want to stay, exactly?”
The silence following my question is so quiet, I’m struck at how odd it is that I’m hearing thunder. The sky was clear a minute ago. But then I realize my heart is pounding that loudly.
“You aren’t ready for me to answer this question,” Lucan tells the floor quietly. “But please don’t make me leave you,” he says low, his voice resonant with feeling. “You don’t know what that would do to me.”
“Well… at least let me start paying you.”
“No.”
“Lucan,” I sputter. “You can’t keep slaving away for free. And I know that Finn said you wouldn’t be taking money for this job, but by the end of day one, I knew you were worth it. I’ve been taking out your fee from my paycheck every week figuring the day you left, I’d slip a wad of cash into your duffel bag. You’d get back to the Pack and your bag would look like you’ve been money laundering for months.”
Lucan meets my eyes. “I won’t take your money.”
I snatch my juice and knock it back like it’s something a lot stronger than cranberry. “You won’t accept your paycheck but you want to keep working the job? Why on Earth—”
“Because,” Lucan says, gaze still holding mine. “Maggie is wonderful.”